


Where the Queen's Heart Gathers

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Grief, Mourning, major character already died, padme amidala's tomb, sidious won't let vader grieve, vader mourns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: Seven years after the rise of the Empire, Darth Vader makes his way in secret to mourn his most devastating loss.





	Where the Queen's Heart Gathers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr blog's finish-the-clone-wars' writing Wednesday: Remember the Fallen.
> 
> Inspired by the art "Mourning for Padmé" by Erik Maell, and "Padme's Funeral" by Lucas Leger
> 
>  
> 
> Mourning for Padme: https://erik-maell.deviantart.com/art/Mourning-for-Padme-284775486  
> Padme's Funeral: https://lucas_725.artstation.com/projects/4RNv1

The festivities of Empire Day were mercifully beginning to wind down. Rubbish droids cleared the streets of Eriadu as the war machines marched back to the weapons depot. Civilians ambled back to their homes and nightclubs, chatting about the glory of the Empire, and how much better the galaxy since the end of the Clone Wars.

Darth Vader hated them.

He hated the way they spoke as though the war had been some far-off, long-ago conflict. He could still hear the shriek of blasterfire, smell the smoke, feel his lightsaber cutting through metal, through flesh. Millions of beings had screamed and died and begged for mercy.

_And all at the whim of one man._

The knowledge never failed to amaze him. All the death and destruction, the Republic ripped in two – for the sole purpose of being re-forged by his Master’s hand.

As he entered the hanger, stormtroopers and officers saluted and scurried out of his way. The Sith did not break his stride as he made for a modified _Lambda_ -class shuttle across the landing platform. As he drew near, a black-haired man stationed by a control panel pivoted and stood at attention, a datapad clutched in his trembling hand.

“Lord Vader,” he greeted hastily. “ST-321 has been fueled, as you requested.”

“Very good, Sergeant.” Vader had become accustomed to the sound of his own voice several years ago, but had come to expect the unnerved glances of those around him. This man was no exception.

“Y-yes, my lord.” He cleared his throat. A muscle jumped in his temple. “I apologize it was not completed sooner. We hadn’t received word that you had been given a mission.”

“If it was something you needed to be made aware of, you would have been informed.”

“Of course,” the man rushed to agree. “Shall I summon a pilot, my lord?”

“That will not be necessary.” Sweeping past the flinching man, Vader ducked as he climbed the ramp and boarded the ship. Settling into the cockpit, he began the launching sequence. As he rose into the air, he felt – not relaxed, certainly not at ease – but certain. His piloting ability was the one thing that hadn’t been taken from him.

Clearing the atmosphere, the planet below was a haze of orange, catching the light of its local sun in what could be considered a beautiful color. The sight did not impress him. Vader punched in the coordinates and made the jump to hyperspace.

Setting the autopilot so the shuttle would remain on course, Vader leaned back in his seat. Perhaps it was unwise, this journey of his. He had not told his Master of his destination. He was scheduled to weed through the new batch of Inquisitors, to determine if they were suitable to carry out the Emperor’s orders. Vader had his duties.

_And she was nothing to me. It was Anakin Skywalker that loved her._

But even as he thought it, some other part of him wondered. _Seven_ _years. Has it really been that long?_

He managed to mediate most of the trip, rousing himself only when the sensors warned he was about to come upon the planet. The blue-white of hyperspace fell away to reveal a blue and green world below him. Inexplicably, Vader felt a flash of – anxiety? Apprehension? Aggravated, he busied himself with transmitting his landing codes to the Imperial port in the capital.

He was greeted on the platform by a jumpy woman with short red hair. “Lord Vader, we were unaware of your approach. Is there anything you require of us, sir?”

“A speeder, and the schematics of the area.”

“Er, military schematics, my lord?”

“No. Those of the locals.”

“Of – of course, my lord.”

Within minutes, Vader was speeding through the streets of Theed as the moons rose, following the provided maps to the outer limits of the city. By the time night had fallen, large ornate buildings flew past him: mausoleums with spires and columns, statues of gods and historical figures guiding the way to the final resting places of Naboo’s most beloved citizens.

He did not know exactly which one to go to; it was merely the pull in the Force that directed him to bring the speeder to a halt in front of one particular vault. Smaller than the rest, seemingly more modest, a statue of a starbird taking flight rose from the domed roof. Dismounting, he approached slowly, focusing on the mechanical rhythm of his forced breathing, trying to distract himself.

_Why am I here?_

Climbing the steps, his eyes fell on a stone altar, upon which the figure of a woman lay.

Vader’s breath caught. Or would have, if the respiratory system hadn’t dragged the breath from his lungs. Taking the remaining stairs two at a time, he drew level with the dais.

A stone sculpture of Padmé Amidala, former Queen of Naboo, lay atop the altar. The artisan who had done the work had taken great pains to immortalize the beauty of the young senator. The set of her lips, the shape of her nose, all perfectly resembling the woman they remembered. Her expression was serene, as though she had simply laid down to sleep. Waves of stone served as hair that cushioned the woman’s head, long and still. It appeared that admirers had come recently to pay their respects; flowers – still bright and fragrant – lay in bunches around the statue and the foot of the altar, while candles flickered in the breeze.

Vader’s gaze was drawn to her hands. Some sort of pendant was embossed in her grasp. Vader stared in disbelief as he recognized a mimic of the japor snippet Skywalker had given to Amidala so many years ago. How – _why_ – would they have included it in her memorial? It was small, rough; it paled in comparison to all the other fine jewels she possessed. Only a few of her handmaids had known its significance…perhaps they had advocated for its inclusion?

Her hands clasped just above a swollen belly – an eternal reminder of the life she would never bring into the world.

Grief filled him, unbidden and raw. He would have – _Skywalker_ would have been a father. Was it going to be a son? A daughter? He would have left the Order if it came down to it; he knew that now. He would have left the Order and taken his family to live on his wife’s homeworld, whole and happy together. If only he had been stronger… if he had left with Padmé when she came to him on Mustafar –

But she had brought Obi-Wan to kill him.

Rage mingled with sorrow as he remembered his old Master standing on the ship ramp, staring down at Vader, anger barely concealed on his normally calm face. She had brought Kenobi to destroy him, to punish him for perceived wrongdoings –

_She would have understood, eventually,_ something inside Vader whispered.

Vader had committed acts that other beings would find appalling. He held no delusions in that regard. And Padmé’s heart was too kind to process what had to be done to bring peace to the galaxy. But if they had time, he would have been able to make her understand why it had to be done.

But Kenobi hadn’t allowed him time to explain. He had manipulated her, turned her against Skywalker, made her despise him. _Even as she betrayed me, she still loved me._

Vader held the anger tightly in his chest. But its focus was no longer on Padmé, and he gazed down at the statue wistfully. Gathering himself, he walked to the heavy, ornate doors and tried to push them open. They would not budge. Vader considered the doors, realizing that the altar outside was for the public; the Naberrie family would be some of the only ones to have access to the actual grave. Vader raised a hand. He could have torn the doors of their hinges and left them mangled on the stone. But he manipulated the locks gently, and the doors swung open without protest. Vader proceeded into the vault.

Light spilled over him as beams shone through a stained-glass portrait on the far side of the small room. The figure portrayed was gentle, radiant, and as painfully familiar as the stone figure outside. The center of the room was dominated by a large rectangular sarcophagus of white stone. Placing his hand on the stone, he brushed its surface as he paced slowly around it, trying to make sense of the emotions welling up inside him. _Padmé._

Two columns stood on either side of the sarcophagus, upon which large pots brimmed with bright red flowers. Through his ventilation system, he caught the scent, and for a moment, he was standing on the edge of a lake, Queen’s Heart flowers dotting the terrace as he and Padmé promised themselves to one another. He remembered taking her hands, her lips on his, joy ringing through his head as he kissed his wife, his _wife_. Nothing would break them apart. They were bound for life, and even after life, and nothing would –

A chill ran through Vader. The Dark Side convulsed, warped, and he felt hate rising to replace the contentment that had crept into his heart.

_He’s here_.

It took all of Vader’s control not strike at the cloaked figure stepping through the entrance. Instead, he faced the man and genuflected.

“My Master.”

“Feeling sentimental, Lord Vader?” the Emperor asked, coming to a halt before him.

Vader didn’t answer.

“I had foresaw that you would come here some day,” the Emperor continued. “I just never expected that you would wait so long.”

Vader glowered, though Sidious couldn’t see it. “I felt compelled to come here.”

“For what purpose? To mourn? To apologize? Seven years is a long time to have gone without acknowledging your faults, my apprentice. _You_ killed her. She is rotting in this tomb because of you. Crumbling into dust just beneath your fingers, life snatched from her because of your rage. It was _you_ who never gave your child a chance to draw breath. Together, we could have saved her. You could have spent the last seven years with your wife at your side and your child in your arms. But you decided she deserved death. Do you truly think that is something you could atone for? Do you believe that even in the netherworld of the Force, she could ever forgive you?”

Vader knew the answer that Sidious was looking for. That Padmé would never have forgiven him for killing their child, for turning on her. But as he forced himself to consider the question, a different answer came to him. Even though she knew of his actions in the Temple, Padmé had still come for him. She had wanted him even after what he had done. And Vader thought – hoped – that somehow, after a long time, Padmé would have come to forgive him.

But the thought filled him with… shame.

So he answered the only way he could.

“I do not deserve her forgiveness.”

His Master’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “No, Lord Vader, you do not. But forgiveness is a weak notion. We do not require those around us to forgive us – we require their unwavering loyalty. Come, my apprentice. Your services are required elsewhere.” Without waiting for a response, the Emperor turned his back on Vader.

Time seemed to freeze. Vader’s hands clenched into fists of durasteel. _Now. Now is the time_. There would be no more fitting place to end this than the grave of his wife. In her name, in her memory, he would strike his Master down and assume the mantle of Sith Master. He would be as powerful as he had promised Padmé.

His Master stopped. “Think carefully, Lord Vader,” Sidious growled. Something feral and powerful filled his voice.

The moment passed.

Vader rose, placing a hand on the sarcophagus for support.

_Forgive me, Padmé_.

He followed his Master out into the night, the glow from the tomb throwing his shadow over the remains of the woman he once loved.

**Author's Note:**

> First time trying to write from Vader's POV. Not sure I'm convinced it's in character. I plan on reading the Vader comics to learn more about how he works, because there are a lot of motives that dictate his actions.


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